


Meet Me Then

by untold



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, M/M, sorry for the namedropping to people who don't know fire emblem, they arent that impt in the story tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untold/pseuds/untold
Summary: Taehyung and Jimin, once best friends in their childhood, meet again on opposite sides of the battlefield. They question each other's beliefs, they question their own, they meet sword and axe to fight a battle neither of them want to be at the front of.
Relationships: Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Meet Me Then

Taehyung wiped the bloodied head of his axe along the bristly fabric of the shirt that laid underneath his armor, the stained leather now tossed aside in favour of taking a breath for a moment. He needed to clear his head, needed to forget for what amount of time he could hold onto that he’d been spending the previous hour killing men and women he wished he instead saw on a morning route to the market. 

Sometimes it was easy to step away from it, easy to disassociate himself from the person on the battlefield, who fought for a cause he hardly believed in because he believed in the opposing cause even less. It was simple to close his eyes and imagine his life back when he visited the market for fruit and stopped at the stables right after to feed them to Dal; as if nothing had changed. But sometimes it wasn’t, and the faces forever frozen in their twisted hatred for him were the only ones he saw behind the vendor stalls. 

He set his newly cleaned axe aside with the weight of the world leaving his hands, attaching itself instead to the handle of the weapon like a barnacle on the underside of a whale. Taehyung began to undo all the different pieces that came together to protect his legs, all too restricting, all so claustrophobic. He didn’t know how he managed to become as skilled a fighter as everyone claimed he was with such ridiculous things clinging to him. Maybe it was because he rarely had to run with such restrictions on, his feet hardly ever on the ground so long as he could avoid it, and he often could.

He’d managed to be the last standing among a handful of enemy soldiers with only having to run on his feet once, for a coward who hid behind a tree with a weapon too risky to deal with via his throwing axes. Strategy always came easier to him on the battlefield, of when to use his throwing axes and when doing so could cost his life. It was like he blacked out and another person who didn’t spend all his combative lessons daydreaming had taken over. 

When Taehyung thought about it, sometimes, he figured he should be grateful for the fact that he moved with memory rather than consciousness. Maybe his nightmares would be unbearable if anything otherwise had been the case. But with the realization of this unexpected skill, also came the worry that he’d lose consciousness completely and not remember killing someone he loved dearly. He recognized that this was unfounded and irrational, but it was a concern that haunted both his sleep and his wake nonetheless. 

He hadn’t killed any of his old friends who had sided with Edelgard yet, but he’d seen the eyes of those that had. The way they shook, the way they cried, it was inhumane to make anyone go through that. 

Fortunately (though how fortunate could it be, really), the owners of the sticky red liquid soaking into the rough and scratchy bottom layer of his protective wear weren’t faces he recognized when he went around the corpses to close their eyes for them. 

And somehow that made it easier. Easier to pretend that his hand wasn’t being forced by one of his former classmates when the eyes he saw drained of life weren’t the ones he went to his lessons with, the ones he ate lunch and shared tea and practiced combat with. It was easier to pretend he was just a warrior in battle, fighting alongside his friends rather than opposite to them.

A weight grew on his heart at the thought, large and dangling from the bottom, tiptoeing around the idea of ripping it in two. But the mischievous feeling left quickly, now seeming more like instinct than actual sentiment. 

It was stupid and meaningless for one to mourn the dead, he told himself, when they’d died by one’s own hands. It was cruel to grieve when the last thing they saw was of him sending an axe through their heart. 

Years ago, when the war had just begun, Taehyung used to cry after every battle. He’d mourn the loss of friends and strangers alike, and he couldn’t help but dream of what the future of the slaughtered men and women would have been had Edelgard not declared war, had Taehyung not cut their timelines short. But now he’d run out of tears. He ran out of sentimental thoughts and hopes of the future and what it could hold. 

He forgot, often, that he had a life outside of the war. Dimitri admired him for it, but he pitied himself for how much he’d let the war take from him. 

Though despite the bloodshed, despite everything, Dimitri was the one Taehyung respected the most. He grew up with and watched him become stronger through their lessons before the conflicts arose, and even stronger afterwards. He was born to be a leader, and Taehyung admired his orchestration regardless of whether it was in class or on a battlefield, leading an army towards one of his oldest companions. 

Maybe that’s why he stayed, why he stood by Dimitri’s side even when he’d rather find land not waging war with oneself. Because he knew there was a foundation in Dimitri’s strength that started from his birth, because he knew that if he left Dimitri to watch all of his friends die around him, that the foundation could not be his alone to stand on. 

Strength and power were so fragile, always on the brink of imploding on itself.

— 

Dimitri had ordered Taehyung and a few other soldiers to advance down the sides of the field rather than along with the majority of the group. Just in case some were ordered to sneak past the main distraction and assassinate Rhea, he reasoned. A logical worry, an accurate one. He came to face many individuals, often in groups, trying to sneak through the forest unnoticed. 

They always seemed shocked to find Taehyung keeping guard alone, but the overconfidence in their numbers was the key to Taehyung’s victory. Though Taehyung had opted to go on his own for more than just the enemy’s underestimation; he had easier mobility and greater skill, as well as another beating heart that looked out for him. 

He struck down the archers they happened across almost immediately, more out of habit than anything else as it was his friend’s greatest weakness, the one weapon she recoiled at the sight of. To get rid of them first was essential, it was the first thing he learned on the battlefield. The wielders of other weapons and sorcery put up harder fights, but in the end the results were the same. Blood on his hands, another face for his nightmares to haunt him with that night.

After what had logically felt like an hour or two of picking off the soldiers as they came and what was half an hour of not seeing another one pass, Taehyung was confident enough in that he’d gotten rid of all who were assigned to assassinate Rhea. He hoped that his companions had been just as successful, but the thought of making sure they had with his own eyes caused the soles of his feet to ache. And the wyvern nudging its hungry nose against his leg, asking for the food Taehyung usually provided her with, did little to ease his fatigue. 

“You must find your own dinner,” he told her, his exhaustion ringing clear in his voice. Though the beast did not listen to him. She rarely did off of the battlefield, and it caused Taehyung to often wonder if he really had tamed her or not. 

She continued to nudge his leg, the point of her covered horn that sat at her nose making a familiar sound as it scratched along his pants. Demanding and childish and endearing all at once. 

With a small laugh at the sight of her strange, reptilian affection, Taehyung moved aside so he could gently circle his fingers around her horn. “You’re getting your armor too bloody, mindless beast,” he said with another laugh, gentle admiration in both his voice and in the thumb that rubbed the red from her protected misfiguration. 

He looked at her then, remaining still as Taehyung held her, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again. With the way her silver scales shone even without the moonlight, with her fiercely black eyes that were now waiting, patient. He’d always admired wyverns, always knew that one day he’d become a warrior and tend to one himself. That, or he’d become a wyvern farmer and care for them all his life. 

So when he was assigned his own to raise, to grow familiar with, to eventually train with, he doted on her with everything he had.  _ Dal,  _ he called her, for she was as beautiful and as strong as the moon, but as stubborn and unwilling to change as she. It was a miracle that she now stayed still as Taehyung removed the armor she wore on her head for her, always so sensitive with the way she was touched. 

“Stay close,” Taehyung warned softly, now wishing to go with her but too fatigued to move from the ground he sat on. Instead, he pressed his forehead to her now bare horn, only letting go at the small snort she gave in response. She snorted once more when their connection broke before stalking her way to the forest behind them.

He watched her until she disappeared, like a father watching his daughter going to her first lesson, full of worry, pride, admiration and guilt. And as if letting Dal leave reassured him of his safety, his fatigue weighed on his eyes and sleep came as a friend the same way the snake had come to Eve.

The apple that had come to entice him stepped through the bushes the moment Taehyung had drifted off. Guardless, careless, as mindless as the creature gone to find her dinner. 

— 

The coldness of the steel against Taehyung’s neck woke him up from the slumber that had only just begun. Instinct came before reason and the handle of his axe was in his hand before his next breath. He was swift when he wanted to be, but slow all the same. The latter’s figure did not strike his memories, neither his fingers nor the small chuckle his reaction had elicited spoke the name of the man Taehyung used to say day after day. 

The trees that surrounded them seemed to grow closer, forming a wall separate from the rest of the world. The clang of his axe pushing against the other’s blade resonated within what was left of the clearing, Taehyung’s heavy breaths joining the sound. Oh, and how much heavier his breaths grew when he met the latter’s eyes, brown and warm and overly familiar. 

Only then did he recognize the temptation of the world for him, only then did life spring into his veins once more with both oxygen and death beating from his heart. 

“Jimin,” he said softly, full of disbelief and wonder at the same time. He always had been with him; always in awe, always at the edge of his blade. 

“Only you would fall asleep in the middle of a busy battlefield,” came his response, effortless and comfortable, smiling as if he were holding back a child rather than a man grown taller and wider than him. 

“You still fight? For Dimitri?” He continued when a moment passed and shock continued to render Taehyung speechless. The question was posed as if Jimin were offended of such an outcome, his words spat in disgust. “I recall you dreaming of running away and starting a wyvern farm.”

“I recall you saying you would run away with me,” Taehyung responded without a second of hesitation, though his breath caught in his throat after the words had come out. Jimin’s brows furrowed together, the reminder of their shared dream clearly the last thing he wanted to be faced with.

“Dreams change,” Jimin said, cold and aloof, though Taehyung knew better. The way his cheek twitched as he spoke, the way he rolled in his lips as if to rid his mouth of the fibs he always swore not to tell. He was the same now as he was then, easy to read, easy to look into the heart he tried so hard to protect. 

“And this is what you dream of? War and endless battles? Bloodshed and unnecessary murder?” Taehyung pushed his axe further with each hate-filled question, provoking his lie and the implications that came with it. Jimin did little to press back, he was looking at Taehyung with a mournful sadness so great that it was clear he was thinking of their classmates as well.

“What other way is there, when Rhea won’t listen?” Jimin shook his head, his voice firmer now as if he were convincing himself of the words he spoke. “This is the only way. She has to die, and Dimitri can’t see it for himself. None of you can.” 

Taehyung exhaled a heavy breath at the thought, filled with pity for the words he knew Jimin repeated, rather than believed in himself. But more so filled with irritation for being lumped in with a whole group of people as if Jimin didn’t know him individually, as if he’d suddenly become nothing but just one of Dimitri’s soldiers to him. 

“Do you even know who you follow?” Taehyung asked, the voice that asked the question dripping with spite for more than just the topic at hand, angry at the man who stood before him, angry for the friend he had lost without carnage.

Jimin looked at Taehyung then, really looked at him. With anger, with tears that refused to spill. He finally shoved back against Taehyung’s axe, only needing to extend his hand slightly to send a wind strong enough to knock Taehyung back against the closest tree behind him.

Taehyung was shocked, his breath stolen from him, left with only a cough that made pain flare up in his chest. He looked at Jimin, at the effortlessness in the action. Jimin had learned more in the last few years and had grown into more than Taehyung could have known. The armor he wore, that had at first looked too big for him to shoulder, now suited him better than it would have anyone else.

“Do you?” Jimin spat when he had managed to pin Taehyung hard enough against the tree that there was no more axe that lay in between them. “Do you fight because you believe in the beast that lives in that castle? Do you know what she does when no one looks?”

Taehyung wanted to reach out and hold Jimin’s face, tell him that it was okay, that it was him. But who was he to Jimin anymore? Who was he but someone that followed Rhea when he couldn’t fathom the idea of doing so himself? 

The anger in Jimin’s voice wasn’t for Taehyung, he knew, but it stung all the same. The hurt that Jimin was feeling, the desperation in his eyes, Taehyung felt it in his heart and it squeezed him so tightly that he felt like he was out of breath. 

Edelgard’s war did not just damage those on the opposing side, he realized then. And he wanted to hold Jimin once more and tell him to run away with him, to free themselves of the people they fought for. No one was worth any respect or admiration, no one was worth seeing Jimin holding his tears back when he’d worn his heart on his sleeve without hesitation when they were still children. 

Taehyung shook his head, squirming under Jimin’s touch though the latter didn’t budge even with Taehyung’s protest. “I don’t know her. It seems I don’t know Edelgard, either. But I know you, Jimin. And this — this isn’t you.” He had grown slack, weak, no longer bothering to push against the sword Jimin had pressed against his throat or the elbow piercing his unarmored stomach. If there was any way for him to die, he would rather it be by Jimin’s hand than anyone else’s.

But Jimin didn’t push any further to determine which breath would be Taehyung’s last, instead weakening his grip in wordless show of his mental retreat. The tears Taehyung had spotted Jimin holding back now welled up at the corner of his eyes, eventually trailing down his cheeks and creating paths where Taehyung hadn’t even noticed dirt lay. 

“Who am I then, Taehyung? You haven’t seen me in three years. How could you possibly know?” His voice was quiet and sincere, and the fact that it was had caused Taehyung’s heart to ache. There was no twitch of his cheek, no roll of his lips that told Taehyung that he was just taunting him.

“How could I not know you?” Taehyung responded, his voice just as soft, just as broken. “Don’t you remember the words we promised one another?” 

Almost instantaneously, Jimin’s face softened and his grip loosened further, as if he was snapped out of a spell. He opened his mouth to respond, but Taehyung would never hear what it was he would say. For in the same second, Dal’s screech echoed through the forest, her anger at the sight of Taehyung’s perceived danger so chilling that it caused Taehyung’s hairs at the back of his neck to stand. 

“Fuck,” Jimin hissed under his breath, pulling away from Taehyung completely for he knew how protective Dal was of her companion. He held his hands up in an attempt to show his harmlessness, moving slowly albeit done in vain for Dal had already seen him on the verge of slicing her master’s throat, even if he had no intention of doing so. She was angry, and she was charging.

Without a second thought, Taehyung ran in front of Dal’s path, blocking her from coming in contact with Jimin. 

“STOP,” Taehyung yelled, for the sounds she made as she ran were too loud for him to speak to her as he usually did. “You mindless beast, you don’t recognize him?” He asked with irritation in his voice, breathless in the worry that she would hurt Jimin in her blind anger. 

Even as he spoke the wyvern tried to move past him, his regret in taking off her head armor sinking in when he had to dig his fingers into her flesh to get her to stop. Taehyung yelled out in aggravated pain just as she did, the only reassurance that he didn’t hurt her as badly as he thought he did in the head that nudged against his torso. Rough, but not entirely, childishly annoyed that he had touched her in such a way. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he ran his hand along the top of her head, soothing her to compensate for the pain he caused. His apologies were constantly whispered as he rubbed in between her eyes, almost sung as if it were a lullaby. 

It was only when she’d settled down and allowed Taehyung to wrap his hand around her horn once more, as if to keep her next to him, that he turned around to face Jimin. It was almost unexpected that he stayed rather than finding cover should Taehyung’s comfort not work. But with the awe in his eyes and the gape in his mouth, Taehyung could see why he’d failed to do so. 

“Edelgard’s war has caused even Dal to grow accustomed to killing familiar faces,” Taehyung spoke spitefully, eyes turning to look at her again with the affection he felt for her, the appreciation he couldn’t express completely. 

“It is not just her war,” Jimin said, sheathing his sword once again, a show of their unspoken but agreed on truce.

“Is it yours?” Taehyung asked, the downwards quirk of Jimin’s mouth giving him the answer he knew Jimin wouldn’t admit to himself. Stubborn as he always was.

He wanted to hug Jimin, he always had in the past whenever Jimin was too upset to speak, his habits impossible to kill. He didn’t know how much his friend had grown since they’d last met face to face, but the softness to his features and its contrast to his skill were forever, Taehyung thought. There was too much Taehyung wanted to say to him, too much he wanted to do, and nothing that could be said or done in a setting such as this. 

So instead he climbed onto Dal, who readied herself to fly away at the gentle kick of Taehyung’s heel. They would not reconcile their friendship here, Taehyung told himself. They would not mend what the war had broken in the middle of a battle where they would turn away.

One day, when the war has been won by either self-assuring side, and he and Dal lived far away from any buildings that didn’t house animals, they would do it then. Jimin would hear of a farmer who raises wyverns to have happy lives instead of fighting other peoples’ battles, and he would come visit Taehyung. 

They could hug then and spar together as they used to. They’d sing each other songs for their birthdays and cut each other’s hair, bake each other sweets and share stories of the war that has long since passed. He would get to hold Jimin’s hand as he used to, before their grip was forced apart to wield sword and axe. 

But not now, not today.

“Taehyung,” Jimin said, soft and open, vulnerable in a way unlike all of his other statements. Taehyung looked at him, silently requesting the rest of his thoughts, and Jimin spoke again. His words were impossibly softer than they had been prior, but so strong in what he said that it seemed loud enough for the whole battlefield, the whole universe, to hear. “Twenty years, right?” 

Taehyung’s eyes stung in a way they hadn’t in a decade. A wall of shameful tears formed at his eyes, and despite the blur of Jimin’s figure, his radiance still shone through. Maybe there was a light to the end of this tunnel, maybe he finally knew which way to run towards when it all finally ended. And it had to end, he thought, it had to. 

“Twenty years,” he responded, his voice cracking in a way that made Jimin smile, the roses always hiding underneath his cheeks now resurfacing. Dal’s wings spread in preparation for the kick she knew was going to come soon. Just three more words, and Taehyung fulfilled her expectations. “We’re almost there.” 

Dal took him into the air, into a space where he could forget the man who caused his heart to stir after years that he’d been convinced it’d grown into stone. Taehyung wiped the tears from his eyes, frantic and eager to forget what had just passed.

Dal snorted in response to Taehyung pressing his forehead into the back of her head, and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh once again, the sound distorted by his tears. He didn’t know what he was laughing at, really. Maybe he was laughing because after all these years his heart stayed so loyal. Maybe it was because he’d cried for someone who hadn’t yet died, and it was ridiculous to do so in the middle of an ongoing war.

Regardless, he ran his hand over the mark he’d left on Dal, her cry in retaliation to his touch one that brought him back to the reality of the sky. He skillfully switched her path, heading for the castle to patch up her wound rather than plunge back into fighting once more. Maybe he’d see Jimin inside the halls, sneaking his way past the guards, Taehyung thought in juvenile amusement. But the warmth in his heart told him otherwise, for it was a warmth meant to last another decade. 

“We’ll see him again,” Taehyung said softly as if he were talking to Dal, his eyes doing anything but looking back to the forest where he’d left Jimin. “One day, I promise.” 


End file.
